


Closer Than Yesterday

by Seluvia



Series: Turbonerd Jeremy and Femmepunk Michael [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Squips (Be More Chill), Anal Sex, Braces Jeremy, Femmepunk Michael, Freckle Jeremy, Glasses Jeremy, Jeremy and Michael's Uncomfortably Intimate Friendship, M/M, Michael's Improbably Good Orgasms, Phone Sex, Turbonerd Jeremy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22535035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seluvia/pseuds/Seluvia
Summary: Michael and Jeremy have a very intimate, casually physical friendship. But that's all it is, right? They're just...really good friends.
Relationships: Jeremy Heere/Michael Mell, Michael Mell/OMC
Series: Turbonerd Jeremy and Femmepunk Michael [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642213
Comments: 22
Kudos: 74





	Closer Than Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> This one goes out to my number one fan, watermellions! Thanks for helping me get this gay shit going, bro!!

“Let’s _go_ , man! We’re gonna be late!” Michael honks the horn of his PT again, really leaning on it just to be extra obnoxious. He grins when his best friend comes tripping out the door of his house, almost eating a mouthful of walkway before he’s even had breakfast. Classic Jeremy. He hurries to Michael’s car and hops in, slinging his backpack to the floor at his feet.

“Did you have to wake up half the block?” he complains with a grin, flashing his braces. It had been a huge personal tragedy for him when he’d gotten them on last year, but Michael assures him every time he brings it up that the blue and green suit him, and the overall effect is pretty cute. Jeremy always tells him he’s biased.

Jeremy’s not wrong.

“If I have to be up at this hour, so do they!” Michael pushes up his glasses and backs out of the driveway, and they’re finally on their way to school. Michael’s in no big hurry to get there, but with the way Michael’s wardrobe gets under the faculty’s skin, every teacher is just looking for an excuse to discipline him. His moms had fought and won the right for Michael to express himself with his clothing choices, but he wouldn’t put it past the teachers and principal to retaliate in whatever way they could get away with.

“You look nice today,” Jeremy says with his usual soft sweetness, and Michael takes one hand off the wheel to find Jeremy’s hand and lift it, pressing a quick kiss to the back.

“You charmer,” he teases. “I just threw this on, I was in a hurry this morning.” Michael is dressed in what passes for a modest outfit, for him. His favorite pair of tight black jeans, ripped to hell and back, black combat boots, an off the shoulder long sleeved crop top with a teasing front zip, and an oversized red jacket that is frankly guaranteed to slip down constantly. What’s the point of wearing an off the shoulder top if he’s just going to cover up with a coat? But if he ditches the coat, he’ll be booted to the principal’s office before he can blink. He’s barely squeaking by under the dress code with the scant half inch of midriff he’s showing, and even that is risky. Michael can’t be happier that this is senior year. He’s so tired of this shit, he really is.

They get to school, and Michael parks. They get their stuff and join the throng of people streaming into the school. Jeremy hunches down like he’s trying to disappear into his overlarge blue grandpa sweater, eyes on the ground as he desperately avoids eye contact. His whole look is somewhere between ‘old man’ and ‘toddler’ with the feeble looking cardigan and little boy shirt stripes, the high waisted jeans and the used-to-be-cool converse. It’s a confusing mish-mash of choices, but it’s all Jeremy, so Michael digs the vibe.

Jeremy stays right on Michael’s tail as they enter the building. He’s gone so pale his freckles are standing out like cinnamon flecks floating in a sea of milk. “I want cereal,” Michael realizes, slinging a steadying arm around Jeremy’s tense shoulders. “Let’s swing by the cafeteria on the way to homeroom, or I might give that cute little face a nibble halfway through class.”

Jeremy relaxes a bit with Michael so close, and nods at him, offering a shaky smile. Neither of them are looking where they’re going, which is probably why they run face-first into Brooke, sending her armful of books and papers tumbling to the floor. “Thanks, Jerry,” Brooke snaps sarcastically, kneeling and beginning to pick up her things.

Michael and Jeremy hit the ground as well, making stacks of papers and hunting down scattered books. As they present their stacks to Brooke, Jeremy leans into Michael, breath a warm tickle as he whispers into Michael’s ear.

“He says he’s sorry for not paying attention, Brooke. And that his name is Jeremy.” Michael may have added that last bit himself.

“Well tell him--”

“He can hear you,” Michael interrupts. “He’s not deaf, talking is just not his thing.” It hadn’t been since Michael had met him when they were kids. At home, Jeremy was as loud and exuberant as any other kid, but the second he got out in public, it was pretty much impossible for him to do anything but whisper, and the only one he could consistently communicate with was Michael. They’d developed a system years ago. Jeremy talks to Michael, Michael repeats what Jeremy says. For the most part, at least. Michael has been known to add a few things here and there.

This isn’t the first time Brooke has heard this. They’ve all been trapped in high-school hell together for the last four years, everyone is well familiar with Jeremy’s quirks by now. That’s probably why Brooke huffs a sigh, rolls her eyes, and turns to Jeremy. “Just watch it, okay? If you run into Chloe like that, she’ll kill you.”

Jeremy smiles nervously and tilts toward Michael again to breathe out his response. “He’ll be careful, he’s not trying to get knifed in the hallway,” Michael repeats with a grin, beaming proudly at his friend for having the boldness to actually make a joke. “Besides,” Michael adds, “if she comes at me, I’ll remind her my eyeliner is sharper than hers and she’ll run to the bathroom to check.” It’s probably true. Michael’s got a perfect cat eye going, and he’s fucking proud of it.

Jeremy climbs to his feet and offers Michael a hand up. It feels perfectly natural to keep holding onto each other as Brooke gets back to whatever she was doing and the two of them head to the caf to find Michael some eats.

One little bowl of cereal later, they’re sitting in homeroom, and Michael is pretty much checked out. Half the students are asleep, the teacher is droning on about some assembly later in the week, Jeremy is furiously scribbling something or other in his notebook. “Dude, put your glasses on,” Michael leans over to whisper, a reminder he has to deliver at least three times a day, since Jeremy is so shy about wearing his glasses that he’d rather squint his way through class than put on the thick frames. Michael doesn’t get it. Jeremy looks even cuter with his glasses on than he does without them.

Jeremy gives Michael his best puppy eyes, but they’ve been fighting this battle for years and Michael is immune to those baby blues. Mostly. He stares Jeremy down until Jeremy gives in, shoulders dropping in a defeated slump as he fishes into his backpack for his glasses case. He’s bright red by the time he puts them on, the plastic frames the same shade of blue as his braces, bright and cheery. Jeremy glances around, but as Michael is always trying to tell him, literally no one gives a shit, or has even noticed.

Michael glances around, and sees one of the guys in class, Vance, he’s pretty sure his name is, staring at him from the front row. It takes Michael a second to decode the look, to determine if it’s the kind of look that gets him into a fight after school, or the kind of look that gets him laid. Vance is sporting a cocky little half-smile and keeps flicking his brilliant green eyes over everything he can see of Michael with the desk in the way. Oh, that is definitely a ‘getting laid’ look. Michael winks at him behind his glasses and Vance’s smile grows.

After class, Michael signals Jeremy to hold on, and makes his way over to Vance’s desk. “I’m free tonight if you want to hang out,” Michael says casually, holding out a slip of paper with his number hastily written on it.

“I’ll call you,” Vance replies with one last appreciative glance at everything Michael is bringing to the table. “I’m looking for something to do.”

Michael waves at Vance as he catches up to Jeremy and they head to their next class. “What was that about?” Jeremy whispers to him.

“We’re gonna hang out tonight, I guess,” Michael answers. “Since you and I didn’t have anything going on. Cool?”

“I didn’t even know you knew Vance. I hope you have fun with whatever you guys get up to.”

Michael can’t stand how sweet Jeremy is. No jealousy, no guilting, even though he and Jeremy usually spend at least some time together after school and Michael just sprung this out of nowhere. He brushes a quick kiss to Jeremy’s cheek. “You’re the best, man.” Jeremy turns red with a speed that would be alarming if Michael weren’t so used to it already.

“GAY!” Shouts an abrasive voice, just before they get shoved hard from behind. Michael spins on his heel and shoves back, not surprised to see Rich smirking at him.

“What the fuck is your problem, man?” Michael snaps, tempted to bury his boot up Rich’s short little ass.

“Oh, sorry, did I interrupt your little snuggle sesh with your boyfriend?” Rich glances at Jeremy with sadistic glee, and Jeremy’s narrow shoulders curl in like he can turn invisible if he can just make himself small enough.

“We’re not dating, we’re just friends, first of all,” Michael corrects. “Second, even if we were dating, so fucking what? Your point being?”

“Holding hands and kissing and shit is fucking gay,” Rich insists, pitching his voice loud enough to draw the attention of most of the people in the hall. “The way you two are always hanging off each other and fucking drooling on each other, get a fucking room already!” A few laughs roll through the gathered crowd.

“Richie, you poor sad bitch,” Michael says with saccharine sweetness. “I’m sorry no one can tolerate you long enough to touch you, but jealousy is a disease, and I’m fucking embarrassed for you.” Michael puts an arm around Jeremy and steers him away from the whole thing. “And fuck you, by the way!” There will no doubt be more bullshit from the undersized baby bully later, but then, there always is.

The morning’s classes pass without further incidents, and Jeremy and Michael are eating lunch in their usual formation. Michael is sitting at a table, and Jeremy is cozied up on his lap, sitting sideways so his long legs can stretch out over the rest of the bench. Michael has one arm looped around Jeremy’s waist, the other one dedicated to actually eating his sushi, while Jeremy carefully eats a sandwich partially wrapped in a napkin, to protect Michael’s clothes from stray crumbs. When Michael is finished eating, he just wraps both arms around Jeremy and sighs contentedly. Jeremy puts his sandwich down for a moment and gently lifts Michael’s headphones onto his ears in a silent encouragement to decompress and recharge. Michael fishes into his pocket and cues up some tunes, then settles back into cuddling Jeremy and enjoying some down time.

Michael isn’t sure exactly when things got so physical between him and Jeremy. It had happened slowly, he remembers, and always felt natural. It felt so right and normal to be close to Jeremy, to touch him and protect him and lean on him. Why should they deny themselves that comfort just because some people have a problem with it?

After lunch, the rest of the day goes by fast. Michael drops Jeremy off at home with a last little cheek kiss and a friendly wave. Michael’s phone chirps, and Michael can’t believe it’s Vance, already. He must have texted the second he got home. Isn’t _that_ good for Michael’s ego? They make plans for Vance to swing by in a few hours, so Michael has time to knock out his homework and get ready.

“I’m having a boy over!!” Michael calls the second he gets through the door.

“Do you have everything you need?” his mother calls back from the kitchen.

“Condoms, lube, pepper spray! I’m set, mom!”

“Do your homework,” she reminds him, poking her head through the kitchen doorway to wave a wooden spoon at him.

“I’m going to do it now, I got it,” Michael sighs, heading upstairs to do exactly that.

When Vance rings the doorbell a couple hours later, Michael is already downstairs waiting. He’s ditched his coat to bare his shoulders, and the crop top is tugged up where it belongs, Michael’s midriff now flirtatiously exposed. Vance’s jaw drops a little when Michael opens the door, and Michael smiles. “Wanna see my room?”

“Yeah,” Vance agrees, looking at Michael like they aren’t going to make it all the way up the stairs with Vance keeping his hands to himself. “Show me.”

* * *

Michael wouldn’t bother answering his phone at a time like this, but it’s playing Jeremy’s ringtone. He gropes around for his phone, and when Vance slows down, Michael shakes his head and pants out, “Keep going, keep going.” Vance isn’t doing great as he pumps awkwardly into Michael, but it’s enough that Michael will be able to get off. Probably. Maybe. If only Vance could pick a fucking rhythm.

“Hey, dollface, what’s up?” Michael says breathlessly, trying to move with the new, uneven rhythm Vance has suddenly switched to. The guy’s dick is fine, but it’s like he’s deliberately avoiding Michael’s prostate like hitting it too many times will make the house collapse around them.

“Michael, sorry to bug you, I know you’re hanging out with Vance.” Jeremy’s voice is all small and nervous, and Michael never wants Jeremy to feel like that. Not ever, but definitely not with him.

“No, I can ta-ah-lk,” Michael says, voice breaking as Vance unexpectedly hits Michael right where he needs it. And immediately moves off the spot again. “Come on, dude, are you doing this shit on purpose?”

“What?” Vance pants.

“What?” Jeremy echoes.

“Never mind,” Michael grumbles to both. “Can’t find anything to do, Jeremy, or what?”

Jeremy launches into an enthusiastic description of an obscure comic he’d found at a garage sale and forgotten to tell Michael about. He’s so fucking cute Michael can’t stand it.

Abruptly, Vance shifts his hips and oh fuck, suddenly the angle is perfect, long, hard thrusts stroking past his prostate nearly every time, tension winding tight in his belly as heat floods him. Michael moans low and throaty before he can check himself, gasping, “stay there, stay right fucking there!”

He’s totally forgotten about the phone in the sudden flood of pleasure, until Jeremy’s voice filters through his moans. “Michael? Are you and Vance, uhm. Are you?” His voice drops to a whisper, like he’s worried the entirety of the Catholic church is about to kick his bedroom door down. “Making love?”

“Oh for--Jeremy,” Michael groans, “we’re fucking, if that’s what you mean, grandma.”

“I’m sorry!” Jeremy cries, “I’ll go--”

“No, it’s fine,” Michael insists, choking back a ragged moan at a sudden, deliciously deep thrust. “Stay with me, Jeremy. I want to listen to you.”

It’s weird. It’s fucking _weird_. Michael knows it’s weird. This isn’t like the other things they do, just being close to each other. That doesn’t turn him on, doesn’t put a thrill in his belly and steel in his cock, it’s just Jeremy, just his friend. But this is…it’s different. Listening to how quiet Jeremy’s gotten, the only sound on the other end his quick, shaky breathing, it’s like everything gets more intense all at once. He can’t hide it, so he doesn’t even bother, his next sweet moan delivered right into the phone.

“Michael,” Jeremy says weakly, “I…I’m not sure if…Is this okay?”

“Feels good to me, man,” Michael says, running his free hand down Vance’s chest, fonder of him now that he’s actually doing what Michael brought him here to do. “Could feel good to you too, if you loosen up a bit. You’re hard, right?”

Jeremy gasps, and Michael can imagine him looking around, as if Michael must be watching him from somewhere. “How did you know? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be.”

“You’re 17, dude. It’d be weirder if you _weren’t_ hard.” Michael hisses out a curse as Vance rocks into him deep and slow and so unexpectedly good Michael is pretty sure his eyes cross for a second. “Shit, that’s good. Why didn’t you do this earlier, you jerk? Don’t answer that, just focus,” Michael pants as Vance’s rhythm starts to break. Okay, so the guy can’t multitask. It’s not like Michael invited him over for sparkling conversation, anyway.

Jeremy makes a soft sound on the other end of the line, a bitten off little whimper that Michael has never heard before. Michael may not know what he’s doing, but he can definitely guess. “That’s it, man, just relax, we’re just having a good time,” Michael encourages.

“Michael,” Jeremy whispers, and another needy little whine trickles out. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“I know, Jer, it’s cool. It’s good. It’s fucking good, Jer.”

Michael lets himself just roll with the situation, listening to Jeremy fall apart on the phone. Jeremy is saying his name, moaning it, _whining_ it, and Michael has never been so turned on in his life. He’s never heard Jeremy sound like this, his voice deeper, almost rasping, and Michael can’t stop imagining what it would be like if it were Jeremy fucking into him instead of Vance, Jeremy’s skinny hips in the cradle of Michael’s thighs, his sweet, blushing face filling Michael’s vision as they make each other feel fucking _amazing_.

Michael abruptly realizes he’s right on the edge, his whole body starting to shake, fire curling through his gut. “I’m close,” he whispers, and the way Jeremy moans high and sharp tells him everything he needs to know about where Jeremy’s at. “Go hard,” Michael urges Vance. “Just fucking rail me, dude.”

Vance brushes his sweaty hair out of his face, his other hand on the sheet by Michael’s side. “Okay. I’m pretty close, too,” Vance confesses. “Are you…gonna stay on the phone, or?”

“Fuck me or leave,” Michael replies, kicking Vance in the back with his heel like he’s urging a horse to move.

Vance makes the right choice, fucking into Michael with every ounce of energy he has left. He’s mostly lost the angle, but Michael is close enough that it doesn’t matter, and the quick, hard thrusts are exactly what he needs. The occasional grazes to his prostate coalesce into an exquisite heat that breaks over Michael in a wave. He shouts as he comes, finally reaching for his cock to help the orgasm along. Michael comes like he always does, high and hard, his chest and neck and the pillow beneath his shoulder all taking their share of damage. The strength of Michael’s climax has precious little to do with Vance and more to do with the luck of Michael’s genetic lottery, but he’s not gonna stop the guy from taking it as a compliment that Michael shoots off so hard.

Later, Michael will have absolutely no memory of Vance coming, if he even did, because he’s too focused on Jeremy’s broken, breathless voice. Michael will never tell Jeremy he mewls like a kitten when he comes, all kinds of honeyed and high-pitched. Jeremy is muffled, like he’s biting a pillow, and all Michael can think about are what kinds of desperate noises he might be able to coax out of Jeremy if given half a chance.

When Jeremy has quieted down to just exhausted panting, Michael notices that Vance has collapsed beside him, breathing hard himself. “Hey, cutie, you good?” Michael says quietly into the phone.

“Mhm,” Jeremy hums. “Michael, did we--”

“Let’s talk about it later, okay?” Michael isn’t ready for all that. He’s not ready for things to change. Whatever Jeremy is about to say, Michael isn’t prepared to face it. “Tomorrow. Come over. We’ll talk it out.”

“Okay,” Jeremy agrees. “Tomorrow.”

“You good if I go?” Michael still has to deal with Vance, who looks like he’s on his way to falling asleep in Michael’s bed. Hard no on that.

“Yeah. Michael, I…”

“Me too, Jer. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Michael drops his phone on the bed after he hangs up, staring up at the ceiling. What the fuck did he just do? He might have just flushed years of friendship down the fucking drain. What will he do without Jeremy? He’s everything to Michael. Michael wants Jeremy to tell him everything can stay the same, tomorrow. That nothing will change, and they’ll be best friends until the world ends. But right now, Michael is pretty sure he’s killed that possibility. All that’s left is to see, tomorrow, how bad the damage actually is. Maybe Jeremy will be willing to forget the whole thing.

But what are the chances of that?

**Author's Note:**

> When will I stop making AUs? Never is when! Lemme know if you want to see more of this timeline, where Jeremy is at maximum nerd! Please comment, I loooove to hear from you guys! You're all wonderful! 
> 
> And please do feel free to come give me requests on Tumblr, I'm seluvian over there! Also swing by my discord server!
> 
> https://discord.gg/Q4BTUkv


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